CHAPTER XVIII.

A BIVOUAC FOR THE NIGHT.

If from any cause whatsoever one happened to have lost his command, or to have strayed away from or to have been left behind by his regiment, he could usually tell with tolerable certainty, as he trudged along the road among the men of another command, what part of the army he was with, and whether any of his own corps or division were anywhere near by; and he could tell this at a glance, without so much as stopping to ask a question. Do you ask how? I answer, by the badges the men wore on their caps.

An admirable and significant system of badges was adopted for the entire Union army. The different corps were distinguished by the _shapes_, the different divisions by the _colors_, of their several badges. Thus the First Corps wore a round badge, the Second a clover-leaf, the Third a diamond, the Fifth a Maltese cross, the Sixth a Roman cross, the Ninth a shield, the Eleventh a crescent, the Twentieth a star,[3] and so on. As each corps usually included three divisions, and as it was necessary to distinguish each of these from the other two, the three good old colors of the flag were chosen for this purpose,--red, white, and blue,--red for the First Division of each corps, white for the Second, and blue for the Third. Thus a round red badge meant First Division, First Corps; a round white, Second Division, First Corps; a round blue, Third Division, First Corps; and so on for the other corps. Division and corps headquarters could always be known by their flags, bearing the badges of their respective commands. As the men were all obliged to wear their proper badges, cut out of cloth or colored leather, on the top of their caps, one could always tell at a glance what part of the Army of the Potomac he was with. In addition to this, some regiments were distinguished by some peculiarity of uniform. Our own brigade was everywhere known as "The Buck-tails," for we all wore buck-tails on the side of our caps.

[3] Later in the service the Twelfth Corps wore the star.

It was in this way that I was able to tell that none of my own brigade, division, or even corps were anywhere near me, as, late one evening about the middle of May, 1864, I wearily trudged along the road, in the neighborhood of Spottsylvania Court-house, in search of my regiment. I had lost the regiment early in the day, for I was so sick and weak when we started in the morning, that it was scarcely possible for me to drag one foot after the other, much less to keep up at the lively pace the men were marching. Thus it had happened that I had been left behind. However, after having trudged along all day as best I could, when nightfall came on I threw myself down under a pine-tree along the road which led through the woods, stiff and sore in limb, and half bewildered by a burning fever. All around me the woods were full of men making ready their bivouac for the night. Some were cooking coffee and frying pork, some were pitching their shelters, and some were already stretched out sound asleep. But all, alas! wore the red Roman cross. Could I only have espied a Maltese cross somewhere, I should have felt at home; for then I should have known that the good old Fifth Corps was near at hand. But no blue Maltese cross (the badge of my own division) was anywhere to be seen. As I lay there with half-closed eyes, feverishly wondering where in the world I was, and heartily wishing for the sight of some one wearing a buck-tail on his cap, I heard a well-known voice talking with some one out in the road, and, leaning upon my elbow, called out eagerly:

"Harter! Hello! Harter!"

"Hello! Who are you?" replied the sergeant, peering in amongst the trees and bushes. "Why, Harry, is that you? And where in the world is the regiment?"

"That's just what I'd like to know," answered I. "I couldn't keep up, and was left behind, and have been lost all day. But where have you been? I haven't seen you this many a day."

"Well," said he, as he brought his gun down to a rest and leaned his two hands on the muzzle, "you see the Johnnies spoiled my good looks a little back there in the Wilderness, and I was sent to the hospital. But I couldn't stand it there, wounded and dying men all around one; and concluded to shoulder my gun and start out and try to find the boys. Look here," continued he, taking off a bandage from the side of his face and displaying an ugly-looking bullet-hole in his right cheek. "See that hole? It goes clean through, and I can blow through it. But it don't hurt very much, and will no doubt heal up before the next fight. Anyhow, I have the chunk of lead that made that hole here in my jacket pocket. See that!" said he, taking out a flattened ball from his vest-pocket and rolling it around in the palm of his hand. "Lodged in my mouth, right between my teeth. But I'm tired nearly to death tramping around all day. Let's put up for the night. Shall we strike up a tent, or bunk down here under the pines?"

We concluded to put up a shelter, or rather, I should say, Harter did so; for I was too sick and weak to think of anything but sleep and rest, and lay there at full length on a bed of soft pine shatters, dreamily watching the sergeant's preparations for the night. Throwing off his knapsack, haversack, and accoutrements, he took out his hatchet, trimmed away the lower branches of two pine-saplings which stood some six feet apart, cut a straight pole, and laid it across from one to the other of these saplings, buttoned together two shelters and threw them across the ridge-pole, staked them down at the corners, and throwing in his traps, exclaimed:

"There you are, 'as snug as a bug in a rug.' And now for water, fire, and a supper."

A fire was soon and easily built, for dry wood was plenty; and soon the flames were crackling and lighting up the dusky woods. Taking our two canteens, Harter started off in search of water, leaving me to stretch myself out in the tent and--heartily wish myself at home.

For soldiering is all well enough so long as one is strong and well. But when a man gets sick he is very likely to find that all the romance of marching by day and camping by night is suddenly gone, and that there is, after all, no place like home. For one, I was fully conscious of this as I lay there in the tent awaiting the sergeant's return. The sounds which came to my ears from the woods all around me,--of strong men's voices, some shouting and some conversing in low tones; the noise of axes and of falling trees; the busy, bee-like hum, losing itself amongst the trees and in the far distance; the bright glare of the many fires, and the dancing lights and shadows which seemed to people the forest with ghostlike forms,--all this, although at another time it would have had a singular charm, now awakened no response in me. One draught of water at the "Big Spring" at home, which I knew at that very moment was gushing cool and clear as crystal out of the hillside, and on the bottom of which I could in vision see the white pebbles lying, would have been worth to me all, and more than all, the witchery of our bivouac for the night. And I would have given more for a bed on the hard floor on the landing at the head of the stairs at home--I would not have asked for a bed--than for a dozen nights spent in the finest camps in the Army of the Potomac. But the thought of the Big Spring troubled me most. It seemed to me I could see it with my eyes shut, and that I could hear the water as it came gushing out of the hillside and flowed down to the meadow, plashing and rippling----

"I tell you, Harry," said the sergeant, suddenly interrupting my vision as he stepped into the circle of light in front of our little tent, and flung down his canteens, "there isn't anything like military discipline. I went down the road here about a quarter of a mile and came out near General Grant's headquarters, in a clearing. Down at the foot of a hill right in front of his headquarters is a spring: but it seems the surgeon of some hospital near by had got there before the general, and had placed a guard on the spring to keep the water for the wounded. As I came up, I heard the guard say to a darky who had come to the spring for water with a bucket,--

"'Get out of that, you black rascal; you can't have any water here.'

"'Guess I kin,' said the darky. 'I want dis yere water for Gen'l Grant; an' ain't he a commandin' dis yere army, or am you?'

"'You touch that water and I'll run my bayonet through you,' said the guard. 'General Grant can't have any water at this spring till my orders are changed.'

"The darky, saying that he'd 'see 'bout dat mighty quick,' went up the hill to headquarters, and returned in a few moments declaring that

"'Gen'l Grant said dat you got to gib me water outen dis yere spring.'

"'You go back and tell General Grant, for me,' said the corporal of the guard, who came up at the moment, 'that neither he nor any other general in the Army of the Potomac can get water at this spring till my orders are changed.'

"Now, you see," continued Harter, as he gave me a tin cup on a stick to hold over the fire for coffee, while he cut down a slice of pork, "there's something mighty fine in the idea of a man standing to his post though the heavens fall, and obeying the orders given him when he is put on guard, so that even though the greatest generals in the army send down contrary orders to him, he'll die before he'll give in. A man is mighty strong when he is on guard and obeys orders. Though he's only a corporal, or even a private, he can command the general commanding the army. But I don't believe General Grant sent that darky for water a second time."

Supper was soon ready, and soon disposed of. Then, without further delay, while the shadows deepened into thick night in the forest, we rolled ourselves up in our blankets and stretched ourselves out with our feet to the fire. Dreamily watching the blazing light of our little camp fire, and thinking each his own thoughts of things which had been and things which might be, we both soon fell sound asleep.